


Tied Around Your Tongue

by peachclub



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Merged Blue Lions/Golden Deer, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sauna Porn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 16:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachclub/pseuds/peachclub
Summary: Claude is certainly not immune to Sylvain. He never has been.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 334





	Tied Around Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> i am ONLY capable of writing porn

The only time Claude really has to himself is in the middle of the night. During the day, his schedule is packed—on top of strategizing and rebuilding, he barely has time to think, much less worry about himself. The night is peaceful anyway. The dread in his gut never really goes away, but at night, it lessens, and for a while, he can pretend that everything is okay. 

After a long wait and much anticipation, the sauna is fully fixed. It’s a much needed escape for all of them. It certainly wasn’t high on the list of priorities, but finally, it has been restored. 

Claude slips in when everyone is asleep, resting his head on the wall, towel loose on his hips. The heat sinks into his muscles, into his bones. 

He sighs, shifting, sweat dripping down his spine. He didn’t know how badly he needed it, relaxing, sinking into the bench. 

His legs spread involuntarily, hands twitching at his thighs. He’s exhausted, but rubs lazily at the front of his towel regardless. 

Everything constantly feels overwhelming. Knowing everyone’s counting on him—his kingdom_ and_ Dimitri’s kingdom—feels like a crushing weight on his shoulders. He can’t fuck this up. He can’t lead them to failure. He can’t— 

The door creaks open and it snaps him from his daze. He straightens himself a bit, feeling his dick rest heavy against his thigh. 

“Oh! Fuck, Claude, you scared me.” 

Claude relaxes once more, anxiety dissipating slightly. “Hey, Sylvain. I could say the same about you.” 

Sylvain shrugs, towel riding dangerously low on his hips. Claude follows the hair trailing down his navel, can slightly see coarse red curls peeking from beneath the towel. Claude’s mouth waters. 

“There’s never any time to _breathe_. This is the only time we’ve really got, huh?” Sylvain asks, pouring more water for some steam before making his way over. 

He sits right beside Claude—in a completely empty room, of course he does. 

Claude shifts uncomfortably, trying to hide his dick with his towel. It’s been a long time since he’s been alone with Sylvain. A very long time. He’s sweating profusely now, and Sylvain eyes him curiously. 

“Say, Claude…” 

“W-what?” His heart pounds in his chest. 

“How long have you been in here?” 

“I don’t know. Ten, fifteen minutes? Not long.” 

Sylvain hums, leaning against the wall. Claude watches as his towel comes undone, exposing his entire thigh. Sylvain doesn’t seem to care, stretching his legs out and resting his head back. 

Claude can feel the heat in his face, knowing damn well it’s not from the steam. If Sylvain tugs on his towel just a bit more— 

Claude’s dick twitches in interest, hardening even more against his thigh. 

This isn’t how his night was supposed to go. Claude just wanted to get in the sauna, bathe, and go to bed. This is turning out to be more complicated than he thought. If he gets up now, Sylvain will most definitely see his _issue_. 

“Jeez, even in a sauna you can’t relax?” 

Claude glances over, sees Sylvain’s eyes cracked open slightly, a smirk on his lips. Claude frowns and Sylvain places a heavy, damp hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be such a hard-ass. Dimitri already has a stick up his ass, you don’t need one, too.” 

Claude vaguely thinks he needs _something_ up his ass, has half a mind to joke about it, but Sylvain’s leaning closer and Claude’s face is on _fire._

Sylvain easily says, “Now, forgive me if I’m out of line, but…” His eyes trail down, settling on Claude’s very persistent problem. He looks back up, raising an eyebrow. 

Claude blurts out, “Kiss me.” 

His heartbeat roars in his ears, his stomach twisting itself into a million knots. He digs his nails into the bench as Sylvain leans in to finish closing the distance, warm lips covering his. 

Claude is certainly not immuneto Sylvain. He never has been. A distant memory returns to him, Sylvain kissing him in a time of high stress, all sad eyes and awkward, fumbling hands. They were so young— 

Claude reaches out to claw at Sylvain‘s shoulders in an attempt to bring him closer. Sylvain huffs into his mouth, “Hey, my towel—” 

Claude snaps, “Don't act like you care about your _towel.”_

Sylvain lets out a short laugh, finally scooting closer, leaving his towel behind. Claude sighs, curling his nails into Sylvain’s slick chest, leaving streaks of red as he drags them down, fingertips brushing coarse curls. 

Sylvain hisses into his mouth, gripping Claude’s thigh, all but tearing his towel from his hips. 

Claude breathes unevenly, fisting a hand in Sylvain’s hair, wet from steam and sweat. Frustrated and flustered, Claude shoves him away and promptly straddles his waist. He wants him closer. Sylvain blinks up at him, surprised. 

“Well, I won’t say I didn’t expect this,” Sylvain says, dazed. 

Claude breathes, “Fuck, shut up,” grabbing his face and kissing him once more. 

Sylvain wraps a hand around his dick and Claude jolts a bit. He feels Sylvain grin and makes it a point to sink his teeth into his lower lip, tightening his grip on his jaw. 

Sylvain’s cock nudges his hip. Everything feels hazy. Claude grabs Sylvain’s dick, hard and leaking against his palm. He pants into his mouth, movements a bit frantic. 

“Hey, hey,” Sylvain says, muffled by Claude’s mouth smushed against his own. “Claude—” 

“_What_,” Claude exasperatedly asks, suddenly hyper-aware of how his chest is heaving, feeling dizzy. He buries his face in the crook of Sylvain’s neck. He smells like soap and sweat, skin slick. 

“Relax,” Sylvain mumbles, knocking Claude’s hand away to wrap his own around both of them. 

Claude groans deeply, grinding against him. He spares a glance down, an intense need settling in his belly. He wants him. Everywhere. 

Sylvain places a quick kiss to his shoulder before leaning his head back. Claude nips at his neck, their bodies slipping and sliding, hot and wet. 

“Fuck, _fuck_,” Sylvain whispers, tightening his grip. 

Claude grabs him by the face once more, their lips crashing together in the least graceful manner possible. Claude rolls his hips, feeling Sylvain’s dick pulse against his own. “Sylvain,” Claude breathes, “more.” 

Before he can even process what’s happening, his back hits the bench. Sylvain readjusts himself, spreading Claude’s legs as wide as they’ll go, one leg pressed into the wall. “Aren’t you a pretty sight,” Sylvain mumbles, rubbing his thumb over Claude’s hole, basking in the full-body shudder it earns him. “I don’t have anything to—” 

“Spit. I don’t care,” Claude retorts. If it hurts, he’ll deal with it in the morning. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s ridden a wyvern while sore. He’ll be fine. 

Claude doesn’t exactly expect Sylvain to shove two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Claude makes a muffled noise, narrowing his eyes up at him. 

Sylvain mirrors the expression. “You know, you’re kind of being a brat.” Claude’s eyes widen as Sylvain’s fingers sink deeper into his mouth. “I’m trying to be nice here,” Sylvain says. Claude swipes his tongue over Sylvain’s fingers, flinching as Sylvain’s free hand comes up. Sylvain simply places his palm on Claude’s cheek, caressing his skin, frowning, “I wouldn’t.” 

He drags his fingers away, a trail of spit following in their wake. Claude breathes harshly, propping himself up on his elbows. “I know. Sorry.” 

“Just take it easy, yeah?” He says it so casually, a little too casually for someone who’s easing a finger into the person below him. “You’re _way_ too tense.” 

It surprises Claude, how difficult it is for Sylvain to get a single finger into him. He lies back, staring up at the ceiling. He feels Sylvain shift from between his spread legs, and suddenly he’s being enveloped in blazing heat. 

Claude arches up, hands scrambling for purchase in Sylvain’s hair. He _pulls_, and Sylvain sinks down even more, burying his nose at the base. Claude whines pathetically, resisting the urge to thrust up into his mouth. 

He should have known Sylvain’s good at this—considering his reputation. It’s a better view than he could have imagined though, Sylvain between his legs, mess of red hair sticking to his face, lips sliding over the length of Claude’s dick. 

The aching between his thighs is almost too much to handle. He warns, “Sylvain, stop, I’m—” 

Sylvain casts him a glance, fingers curled lightly around his length. “It’s fine,” is all he says, taking him back into his mouth. 

Claude feels every lick of his tongue, sparks shooting up his spine. He tightens his grip on Sylvain’s hair, tugging so hard it’s bound to be painful, coming down his throat. 

“Shit, _Sylvain,_” Claude weakly says, watching him pop off, lips pink and wet, come trailing down his chin. 

Sylvain raises an eyebrow, a disgustingly satisfied smirk painting his lips. He curls his fingers and Claude claws at the bench. When did he get two— 

Claude grits his teeth, suppressing a surprised shout. Sylvain twists his wrist, pushing up into him. Claude tries to clamp his thighs around Sylvain’s arm, but Sylvain pushes his leg with his free hand. Oversensitive, he groans, throwing his head back, torn between pulling away and shoving himself down onto Sylvain’s fingers. 

His back is soaked, drenching the bench beneath him. It’s sticky and slippery. Sylvain’s hold on his leg keeps him from being pushed back. 

“Just _fuck me_,” Claude impatiently says, an embarrassingly whiny tone to his voice. 

“It’ll hurt,” Sylvain warns him. 

“I don’t care. _Please_.” 

Sylvain grabs his thighs and pulls him close, rubbing the tip of his cock over Claude’s ass. Claude groans, frustrated. Sylvain spits into his palm, stroking himself before he pushes in slowly, the drag burning white-hot. 

Claude wraps his legs around Sylvain’s waist, pulling him in deeper. 

Sylvain hisses his name, pulling out slowly and pushing back in. He curls his fingers around Claude’s dick, half-hard and sensitive. Claude digs his nails into the bench to anchor himself, trying to push up into his fist. 

He’s on fire—everything’s hot. Claude knows he probably looks ridiculous, drenched in sweat and half-delirious, but he’s too far gone to care. 

Sylvain grabs one of Claude’s legs, resting it on his shoulder. Claude curses so loudly it echoes. Sylvain chuckles, “Are you _trying_ to alert the guards?” 

Claude drops his head back onto the bench, panting like it’s difficult to get air into his lungs. 

Sylvain moves at an agonizingly slow pace, arm curled around Claude’s leg, hand placed on his thigh. Claude’s head feels hazy, every push and pull feeling overwhelming. 

Claude looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, dick throbbing at the sight. Sylvain looks incredible—skin flushed, sweat dripping down his chest, hair tangled and wet atop his head. Claude _knows_ why people want him. 

He slides up a bit on the bench when Sylvain thrusts in particularly hard. He gasps, surprised, but Sylvain simply grabs his hips, dragging him back onto his cock. 

For a moment, Claude thinks this is quite possibly the hottest situation he’s ever been in. He’s glad he’ll finally have something to use as fuel next time he needs release. 

“Claude,” Sylvain breathes. “Come up.” 

Suddenly, his arms feel like jelly. Claude awkwardly forces himself up, frowning when Sylvain pulls out. 

“What are you—” 

Sylvain grabs him and brings him onto his lap. _Oh. _Claude positions himself over him, sinking down onto him, damp chests pressed together. 

“You look so damn good,” Sylvain says, mouthing at his neck. Claude rolls his hips, whimpering, feeling mostly fucked-out by now. Thankfully, Sylvain seems to have most of it planned out already. He digs his nails into Claude’s hips as he grabs him, hard enough to bruise, lifting him and slamming him back down. 

Claude shoves his face into the crook of Sylvain’s neck, panting, “Holy shit.” 

Sylvain teases, “What's wrong, Claude? Can’t handle the heat?” 

Claude bites him so hard his teeth leave indents. Sylvain laughs, helping him up once more. Turning his head, Claude kisses him, rough and messy. 

“_You’re_ a brat, Sylvain,” Claude growls into his mouth, snapping at him for earlier. “Fucking _teasing me _when I have all this shit on my plate—” 

Sylvain’s dick has stars bursting in his vision. The air rushes out of his lungs, his dick rubbing against Sylvain’s abs every time he’s moved. 

“You think I don’t know that? Dimitri is practically useless right now.” 

Claude grabs his biceps hard, staring at him through blurry eyes. 

“I know, Claude. I _know_.” 

Claude’s whole body shakes as he comes, hands slipping on Sylvain’s arms. Sylvain kisses his neck, sliding his hands up his spine and bringing him closer. The tremors feel like they last forever, and Sylvain holds him until they stop, carefully pulling out. 

Claude notices Sylvain’s dick is somehow still hard, “You—” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Claude grumbles, wrapping his hand around Sylvain’s cock, dripping and pulsing against his palm. 

Sylvain tilts his head back, eyes shut, and Claude takes the opportunity to get a good look at him. He’s always been handsome, of course. But there’s something about seeing him _now_, like this, that sends Claude’s want skyrocketing. 

He stares at his glistening skin, flushed over, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips. Claude tightens his fist and Sylvain’s eyebrows furrow as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth. 

“What are you looking at?” Sylvain asks, grinning. Claude glances up at him, catches him staring with his eyes cracked open slightly. 

“Nothing.” 

Claude’s head spins but he pays it no mind. He wonders how Sylvain hasn’t _come yet_. 

“Fuck, Claude, I’m…” 

_Finally_, he thinks. 

Sylvain groans, deep in his throat. The sound is almost enough to get Claude going again. He hits his head against the wall quite hard, hands shaking from where they’re placed on Claude’s thighs. His blush deepens, staining his skin dark red as he comes all over his own belly. 

Claude rests all of his weight on top of him, finally going a bit limp. He buries his face in the crook of Sylvain’s neck, suddenly sleepier than ever. 

Sylvain rubs his back, both arms wrapped around him. It feels nice, being held. He can’t remember the last time he had a damn _hug. _

Claude drifts in and out of consciousness so fast he startles himself. 

“You sleepin’ on me, Claude?” 

“Ugh. Kind of. Sorry.” Claude sits up, rubbing his eyes. “It’s just so hot in here.” 

“Let’s go, then.” 

It takes Claude a moment to process it, heat getting to his head. “Sorry, where?” 

“Wherever you want.” 

The glint in Sylvain’s eye almost seems like a challenge, or perhaps an invitation. Claude snorts and jokes, “Do you tell everyone that?” He carefully gets up, legs aching, lower back on _fire_, and reaches for his discarded towel. 

With a sudden seriousness, Sylvain says, “No. Just you.” 

“I—well.” Claude awkwardly clears his throat. “Get up, then. We’re going to my room.” He wraps his towel around himself, useless and damp, feeling a tad embarrassed. Sylvain’s words affected him a bit more than he’d like to admit. 

Sylvain gets up as well, smacking Claude’s ass through the towel. “Whatever you say, boss.” 

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is


End file.
